The Hunt
by lookninjas
Summary: Faced with an unspeakable horror, enemies are forced to come together to save Hogwarts before it is destroyed from within. Chapter 3 is now up!
1. The Dead of Night

They met in secret at the darkest hour of the night, huddled in nervous, whispering clumps in the Room of Requirement. The Slytherins stood apart, gazing at the others in the room, exchanging looks of deepest suspicion. The Hufflepuffs were silent, faces pale but resolute. Standing with the rest of the Ravenclaws, Cho Chang burst into nervous giggles, then abruptly fell silent. Behind their Head of House, Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Gryffindors discussed tactics in lowered voices. Though the room was full of students, the flickering candlelight fell on only one male face, the round, stoic countenance of Neville Longbottom.

"Well," Professor McGonagall said, her sharp gaze sweeping across the assembled students. "Ladies..."

"And Neville," Ginny Weasley said, daring to interrupt, her flaming hair catching glints of the firelight.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned in what might well have been a smile. "And Neville," she agreed, solemnly. "I believe we all know why we're here. Hogwarts is under assault from within."

"A bit overdramatic, if you ask me," Pansy Parkinson said, and several of the Slytherin girls sniggered.

"Yes, well, it's fortunate that nobody asked you then, isn't it?" Hermione Granger snapped back, to the nodded approval of the Gryffindors.

McGonagall sighed. "Please, everyone. This is not the time for inter-House squabbling. As I have said, Hogwarts is indeed under assault. The threat is subtle, but it is a threat nonetheless."

"It's those girls!" Cho said, tossing her hair. "Nothing's been normal since they came here!" There was a general murmur of agreement at that.

"You're just jealous," Millicent Bulstrode shot back, with an even more dramatic toss of her hair. "They're prettier than you, and they're more powerful than you, and..."

"It's unnatural," Hannah Abbott said with a shiver. "Wandless magic? Half of them claim to be Animagi, and there's only been seven registered Animagi in the last century! And that's not counting the Metamorphmagi..."

"Not to mention the talking pets..." Ginny added.

Hermione smiled sardonically. "Or the fact that half of them claim to be related to one or more of the darkest wizards who ever lived. Two of them say that they're Voldemort's daughters. There's a handful of Lestranges, almost a dozen new Malfoys..."

"Sirius Black apparently had four daughters while he was locked away in Azkaban," Susan Bones reminded them. Hermione and Ginny exchanged an odd look, as though they didn't like hearing Sirius Black lumped in with a group of Death Eaters. "It's ridiculous, Millicent, and you know it. Or did you never stop to wonder how Remus Lupin could have possibly managed to have a daughter who's half-werewolf and half-Veela?"

"Well, then, that clears everything up." Pansy didn't bother to hide her scorn. "They're compulsive liars, which obviously makes them far more evil than You-Know-Who could ever be. Let's kill the lot of them and sort it out afterwards."

Professor McGonagall kept her composure with surprising ease. "I might be tempted to ignore them as well, Miss Parkinson, were it not for the evidence we've seen of their... unusual abilities. Or have you already forgotten what happened at the Samhain Ball?" Pansy fell stubbornly silent, and McGonagall continued. "Not to mention that their presence seems to have caused some significant changes in the way the school is run. We've had eleven balls and four talent shows in the past six months. And I'm afraid that there have also been some striking changes in the behavior of... of the men at Hogwarts." None of the assembled girls had anything to say to this; they stared at their feet, and Cho Chang began to sniffle. "The school has been turned upside-down by their presence. Were we to be attacked today, I doubt we could defend ourselves. Indeed, I begin to wonder if that's not the entire point."

"The Trojan Horse," Hermione murmured. Seeing bewildered looks on many of the faces around her, she elaborated. "It's from a Muggle legend. During the siege of Troy, the Greeks constructed a wooden horse, and hid some of their best soldiers inside. Then they pretended to retreat, supposedly abandoning the siege. The Trojans, believing the conflict to be over, brought the horse inside the city walls. At night, the Greek soldiers crept out of the horse and slaughtered the Trojans in their sleep."

Millicent let out an impatient sigh. "We're all very impressed by your knowledge of Muggles, Granger, but what does that have to do with anything?"

For the first time since the meeting had begun, Neville stepped forward. "The girls are the Horse, Bulstrode," he said, and his voice was very low. "They came to the school disguised as students, so we'd let them inside. And now that they're here..."

"They're trying to bring us down from within." Ginny's voice was equally low, equally calm, but her cheeks were flushed pink.

Pansy opened her mouth, but was interrupted before she could speak. "So, Parkinson, how's Malfoy doing?" Hannah asked, her lazy drawl an astonishing impersonation of Malfoy's own. "Seen much of him lately? Oh, that's right, he's seeing one of Sirius Black's daughters, isn't he? Just like Ernie. And Dean Thomas."

Professor McGonagall attempted to take control of the discussion once more. "As it stands, nearly all the men of Hogwarts have been bewitched by these girls, not only the students, but the teachers as well. Even Headmaster Dumbledore himself has not been immune. No, ladies..."

"And Neville," Ginny added, hastily.

"And Neville." Again, if Professor McGonagall was at all affected by the interruption, it didn't show. "The question is not whether or not these girls are a threat to us. The question is, how do we stop them?"

Parvati Patil stepped forward timidly, clutching her sister Padma's hand. "But... But Professor McGonagall," she said, trembling a little, "we don't even know what they are. Hannah's right; they have unnatural powers. What if they're demons? Or... or..."

"Or veela," Padma suggested. "Or part-veela, maybe, like that French girl from Beauxbatons."

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Miss Patil. In all my years in the wizarding world, Fleur Delacour is the only part-veela I've ever met. It simply isn't that common."

"'All my years in the wizarding world,'" Pansy repeated, thoughtfully. "They must be rare, then, if you've only met one in the past thousand years."

Neville's cheeks turned bright red. "Shut it, Parkinson," he said, his voice surprisingly firm.

She flushed in her turn. "I beg your pardon, Longbottom?"

"Two words, Parkinson; not that difficult. Shut. It." There was a surprising gleam in his eyes, and though he shook, he seemed angry, rather than afraid.

She stiffened. "I've been wondering, Longbottom," she said, and her voice was honeyed, sweet with malice. "Why exactly is it that you're one of the few men of Hogwarts who hasn't been affected by these girls? You don't suppose that they just decided that you weren't worth bothering with, do you?"

It took three Gryffindor girls to hold Ginny back, but Professor McGonagall only smiled. "Indeed, Miss Parkinson, it seems that our enemies have underestimated Neville's courage and abilities. And that is what gives us hope. For if they've managed to underestimate Neville, it's not impossible that they've underestimated us as well." And though some of the girls in the room didn't seem to be at all reassured by this proclamation, there were others who visibly relaxed, as though a heavy burden had just been lifted from their shoulders.


	2. A Discovery

The plan was a simple one; as Professor McGonagall noted, with just the barest trace of acid in her voice, subtlety was likely to be wasted on their foes. The defenders of Hogwarts were divided into teams of three, without regard for friendships or House allegiances, and sent into the corridors, staircases, and hallways to await their prey. Dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky, and there was no time for delay. Although some of their foes slept late, others were prone to early morning jogs and martial arts sparring sessions. Then, too, there were a select few who would need to leave the rooms of their lovers, whether student or teacher, and sneak back to their own dorms before breakfast. It was best to get an early start.

Hermione had, much to her dismay, found herself paired with Pansy Parkinson and Cho Chang. She didn't like Parkinson much, but at least she knew the Slytherin girl had a varied repertoire of curses at her disposal, some of them quite nasty. Cho, on the other hand, could very well turn out to be dead useless in a fight situation. But there was nothing for it; even as they approached their destination, they saw their target emerging from Severus Snape's office. "Well," Pansy muttered, drawing her wand. "I suppose that explains her ridiculously high marks in Potions, doesn't it?"

Suppressing a smirk, Hermione drew her own wand and stepped forward, Cho following close behind. Their quarry, one Anastasia Capricia Violet Sawney-Beane, saw her and smiled hugely, stretching with luxurious grace. Her long, flame-colored hair swayed as if stirred by a loving breeze, and her eyes blazed forth with such luminosity that Hermione wished, for a moment, that she'd thought to bring her sunglasses. "Morning, Mia!" the girl chirped, and Hermione winced at the unwelcome familiarity. "How come you're up and about so early?"

"We're hunting," Hermione replied, a faint smile on her lips, wand at the ready.

"Really?" The target retained her languorous ease, but Hermione noted the slight resettling of her feet, as though she were preparing for combat. "What are you hunting?"

Pansy stepped up to join her teammates, aristocratic features twisting with faint disdain. "You," she said.

Before the target could so much as blink, Hermione, Cho, and Pansy raised their wands as one and cried out "_Stupefy_!" Beams of red light shot from their wands, striking their quarry full in the chest, knocking her back off her feet. There was, however, no chance for celebration. Even as she stumbled, the target began to shimmer, her perfect form dissolving into a haze of coruscating colors. Hermione took a tentative step forward, straining to see. After a few moments of uncertainty, she began to pick out the details. Claws. Fangs. Red, metallic scales that reflected an unearthly light. Pansy swore with great creativity. Cho let out a little shriek. Seconds earlier, they had been facing an unusually attractive, but otherwise rather ordinary girl. Now they were nose to nose with a dragon.

The dragon tipped its head back, letting out a great roar that seemed to shake Hogwarts to its very foundations. Clutching her wand, forcing herself to keep a level head, Hermione noticed something odd. The hallway was not a very big one, but the dragon was somehow just able to fit within it, despite its being at least ten metres high and a good fifteen from snout to tip of tail. Nor had anyone come running to find out what the disturbance was, although the roar must have been audible all the way to Hogsmeade. There was something odd about it, something familiar...

_"But Professor McGonagall," Hannah said, her voice still a little trembly. "What about their powers? They can do things that even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named..."_

_"We've all seen their powers in action, this is true," Professor McGonagall replied. "But you'll notice, ladies -" She smiled, and corrected herself before Ginny could interrupt - "and Neville, that there never seem to be any... any notable repercussions to their actions. They rampage about as werewolves no matter what phase of the moon, and yet never bite any of their other students. They have all the abilities of vampires, but never seem to fear the sunlight or show any pressing need for blood. We've seen their powers, this is true. But we've never really seen their powers do much of anything."_

_"It's some sort of an illusion," Ginny suggested, thoughtfully._

_"It's not an illusion, Miss Weasley." Yet there was a trace of a smile playing about the corners of McGonagall's lips. "There are ways of detecting such things, and I'm familiar with nearly all of them. Nonetheless, it's safe to say that these girls are not quite as they seem." McGonagall's eyes had settled first on Hermione, and next on Neville, and there was an odd twinkle to them, a look vaguely reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore himself..._

"Granger!" Pansy dove to the side, a rolling tumble of robes, as she dodged the enormous claws of the dragon. "A little help might be nice!" Cho was desperately firing stunners at the dragon, although her curses seemed to bounce off its broad chest without causing the slightest bit of damage.

Hermione pushed the sleeves of her robes back, bit her lip, and concentrated as hard as she could. "_Riddikulus_!" she cried. In an instant, the dragon shrank to the size of a child's plaything. It let out another roar, but its voice was now approximately as frightening as that of a particularly meek and fluffy kitten.

"I don't believe it," Pansy breathed, pushing herself to her feet again. She contemplated the tiny dragon for a moment before raising her wand and crying "_Riddikulus_!" in her turn. The dragon ceased to merely sound like a meek and fluffy kitten; in fact, it turned into a meek and fluffy kitten, complete with an enormous pink bow.

"Finish it, Cho," Hermione said, staring down at the kitten. It glared back at her with hate-filled eyes, although the effect was spoiled somewhat by its little pink nose and trembling whiskers.

Cho swallowed, slack-jawed with astonishment. "_Ri-Riddikulus_," she finally managed, her voice weak and tremulous. The kitten exploded into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke and disappeared.

The girls stood in silence for a few moments, trying to make sense of it all. Hermione herself, despite having correctly deduced that the girl was in fact nothing more than a boggart, could scarcely believe it. "A boggart," Pansy said, unconsciously echoing Hermione's thoughts.

"It makes perfect sense when you think about it," Hermione said, but her voice contained none of the smug satisfaction that usually accompanied an important realization. "She was perfect in every way, got along with everyone, never failed at anything, and had no personality whatsoever. It's every reader's worst nightmare."

"R-reader?" Cho asked, apparently still a little bit too shocked to think clearly. "But... But Hermione, this isn't a book."

Hermione's eyes met Pansy's, and for a moment, they were in complete agreement on something. Cho was, if not a total idiot, painfully naive. Fortunately, before they had to trouble Cho's delicate sensibilities with a few home truths, a shriek came from a nearby stairwell. "Ginny," Hermione said, her hand clenched around her wand.

"Come on," Pansy said, and sprinted down the hall, her robes billowing around her ankles. Hermione followed after, feeling her grudging respect for Parkinson growing with each step she took.


	3. Reunited

"I don't believe it," Pansy muttered, staring at the wisps of dissipating smoke as yet another boggart imploded in the face of their laughter. Hermione wondered in an absent sort of way if Pansy was still having a hard time coming to terms with the boggarts, or if she was expressing astonishment that Neville had managed to destroy them himself without needing to be told how.

Neville shrugged, his round face a bit pink with pride. "It makes perfect sense, when you think about it."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "So I've been told."

Their group had swollen from three to nine as they made their way through the corridors of the dungeons, spreading the word. The mysterious new girls were not, after all, invincible. Once they were understood, they were really quite easy to destroy. Too easy, really. Anastasia Capricia Violet Sawney-Beane, Sable Onyx Nightwing Black, Emiliana Victoria Princessa Francesca Riddle, and Betsy Kline had all fallen with barely a fight, laughed away into nothingness. Hermione had never been the sort of person who was content with an easy solution. How had the boggarts gotten into Hogwarts in the first place? How had no one suspected them before? And why were the boys still acting strangely? These were questions that, as yet, had no answers. And she'd never been exactly fond of unanswered questions.

Ginny checked her watch. "Nearly eight o'clock," she said. "They'll all be heading for the Great Hall soon. If we want to rendezvous with the others, let them know what we've discovered, we should leg it."

"Brilliant," Susan said. "We'll go wipe out the bi-" She stopped abruptly, correcting herself mid-word. "The boggarts, and then go in and have breakfast. It'll all be over by lunch."

"Maybe not." There was an odd, tense note in Neville's voice; it silenced the rest of their little hunting party. For a moment, all was still. Then Hermione realized that she could hear footsteps approaching, and voices talking and laughing, coming up from the Slytherin common room. Two of the voices were distinctly masculine. One belong to Draco Malfoy. The other belonged to --

"Ron," Ginny breathed.

Pansy stepped close to Hermione. "Draco and Weasley aren't boggarts, Hermione," she murmured, her breath tickling Hermione's ear in a very uncomfortable way. "We can't just laugh them away."

"We can disarm them," Hermione replied, forcing herself to keep her composure. Though she would never have known it, her eyes strangely resembled McGonagall's at that moment. "Stun them if we have to. But we're not going to hurt our friends."

"Your funeral," Pansy said. Glancing to the side, Hermione realized that Pansy's fingers were twitching oddly. In fact, as she watched, she realized that the Slytherin girl was using Muggle sign language, repeating the same three letters over and over again. _A -- S -- L?_

Hermione held her arm out to the side, just within Pansy's visual range, and extended her thumb and pinky finger. _Y. _Yes, she could sign The voices were closer now, but she felt a little reassured. If they could talk to one another without their enemies understanding... Ron wouldn't know sign language, of course, and she doubted Malfoy would have bothered to educate himself in such an inferior mode of communication.

Still, her wand trembled slightly in her hand when Malfoy and Ron rounded the corner. Neither of them were the boys she'd gone to school with for so many years. Malfoy was dressed entirely in Muggle clothing - black leather pants with lacing up the side and a black tank top with skulls or something else on it. Hermione had seen a few people in this sort of outfit back at home over the summers, and she'd always found them a little bit laughable. It was harder to laugh at Ron. It was not as dramatic a change, but far more painful to see. Although he still wore his Hogwarts robes, the Gryffindor crest was no longer proudly emblazoned on the front. Now he wore the snake of Slytherin.

"What do you think you're doing down here, Granger?" Malfoy demanded, and the nastiness in his voice was somehow reassuring. Some things never changed.

Pansy's eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed not on Malfoy, but on Rebecca Astra Aspera Glorfindelia Black, Malfoy's new girlfriend. "Move, Draco," she said, "or we'll take you down with them."

Malfoy's face twitched. "It's over, Parkinson," he said, scowling. "I've found a love that's actually true, not some silly, shallow little b-b-" More twitching, and Hermione's eyebrow shot up. After a second or two, Malfoy recovered his composure, and finished what he had been saying. "A shallow little b-bint like you."

"Drakie-poo," Rebecca Black said, pouting. "You know I don't like it when you talk to the preps."

Ron took a step forward, and Ginny let out a low, hissing breath. Hermione could only imagine how difficult it must be for her to have to fight her own brother. "I'll handle this, Drake," he said, raising his wand. At first, Hermione thought he had a twitch like Draco's. Then her clever little brain engaged fully, and she realized that he was winking at her.

"Ron," she said, one hand holding her wand at the ready, the other just out of sight behind her back, signing furiously at Pansy. _Wait. Wait. Ron no bad. Wait._ "Ron, wait..."

"_Aveda Ketosis_!" he roared, and Hermione had to dive backwards to dodge a gout of anti-cellulite cream that poured from the tip of his wand.

Someone caught her - Pansy, it must have been - keeping her upright. "Ron, get down!" Hermione cried.

"Now!" Ginny shouted, and the rest was a blur of confusion. Ron, skidding face-first towards them through a puddle of lotion. Shouting, a barrage of hexes.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

"_Stupefy_!"

"_Riddikulus_!"

It was over before Pansy could set Hermione firmly on her feet once more. Draco lay crumpled on the floor, his wand several feet away. The Black sisters had dissipated into smoke. Dazed, Hermione put out her hand and helped pull Ron to his feet, struggling a little as he slipped in the anti-cellulite cream. His hair was plastered to his face, his skin slimy, and his robes smeared all down the front with the lotion, but he was grinning from ear-to-ear. Hermione stared at him for a moment, then flung her arms around him, standing on tiptoe to pull him down to her level. It didn't matter that she was now thoroughly coated in anti-cellulite cream herself. All that mattered was that Ron was finally back to normal. There was an awkward pause when she finally let him go. "_Aveda Ketosis_?" she repeated, feeling a ridiculous smile spreading across her face.

He shrugged, wiping his face with his sleeve. It only served to spread the mess, not to clean it. "You're top of every class you're in, Hermione, and it never once occurred to you that none of the boggarts could cast a spell without getting the words all wrong? Honestly, I think you're slipping."

Hermione found herself at a loss for words. It wasn't that he was pointing out one of her mistakes for a change; it had just been so long since he teased her that she had nearly forgotten what it was like. A strange rush of emotion swept over her, and she shoved it down, filed it away to be analyzed later.

Ginny stepped between them, grinning and shaking her head. "_Scourgify_," she muttered, tapping Ron on the nose with her wand, and the lotion vanished, leaving him as clean as he ever was. Another tap of her wand, and Hermione was tidy once more. "Don't suppose you want to tell us why you were acting such an idiot?" Ginny asked, her arms folded, her face set in an expression remarkably like her mother's.

Ron brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Long story short, I was shamming. But we'd better get out of here and get everyone together. I have a feeling we're going to need as much help as we can possibly get."


End file.
